


A Gastronomic Spread

by squidgie



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: comment_fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7214872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where Evan Lorne left the Air Force and became a chef to help his mother out.  This lives in the same Universe as <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/5330336">My Dinner With Rodney</a>, though there are no overlapping characters besides a passing mention Rodney McKay.</p><p>edit: Apparently I forgot I made Evan a pastry chef in <i>My Dinner With Rodney</i>, so I guess you could consider this an AU of an AU?  Or just conveniently ignore the inconsistencies between the two stories. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gastronomic Spread

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



> For Brumeier's prompt: Stargate Multiverse, Evan Lorne, Even a kitchen professional can cut himself

Evan Lorne was the consummate professional in the kitchen; when it came to chefs, he was in the top of his field. He professed that it was his previous Military background that helped him bring order to the normally chaotic environment of the busy San Francisco restaurant. After being discharged from the Air Force, he moved back to San Francisco to help his mother's struggling restaurant, and within a couple years had turned it around, turning it into one of the most sought after hotspots in Northern California.

When asked how he did it for an article in the Examiner, Evan awed Elizabeth Weir, the reporter, by doing the entire interview while dressing a chicken for that night's special, never breaking eye contact with her. "How do you do that?" she asks after he butchers the sixth chicken in a row, moving the meat to the side as he grabs another, sharpens his knives, and starts in again.

"I'd like to say it's all a skill," Evan says, cutting the tips off the wings and tossing them into a nearby tall pot for stock. "But it's a bit more than that," he admits.

"So was McKay right?" Weir asks, a curious look in her eyes. "It's all an act?"

Evan just chuckles, shaking his head fondly, and then gestures with his knife. "Rodney McKay is a _brilliant_ food critic, and I'm one of the only chefs to get a glowing, full five star review from him. But it's _not_ just an act. It's..." Evan struggles with the words, so he finally settles on, "Not only does it let me keep an eye on what's going on around the kitchen, but it's helped in so many other ways. I've done the same thing when interviewing line cooks. And those that can take the heat or aren't unnerved by it are the ones that I _know_ I can count on when there's a full house and we're short staffed." He watches as Elizabeth types her notes on her tablet, and then goes back to work.

The noise level is low for the closed restaurant, Evan and a few others working as Elizabeth works on her story. He's watching her type away when there's a knock on the door, and he bobs his head for one of his busboys to go and unlock it. Because of the glare, he doesn't know who it is, but the reporter says, "That would be my photographer," which Evan just nods at.

Grabbing a rack of lamb, both to prep for tonight as well as knowing that it will look good in a glossy spread that Elizabeth had promised would accompany the story, Evan asks, "So any more questions?" as nimble fingers and delicate knifework trim away the gristly parts of meat at the top of the bone. And as the tall stranger walks away from the glare, he hears, "Evan?" just as a face from his past comes into view.

" _David_?" Evan asks, and almost immediately feels a jolt of electricity and sting, his sous chef exclaiming, "Oh shit!" half a second later.

Evan smiles ad David, ignoring the sting until David gets a bit of a horrified look on his face. "Ev?" he asks, voice full of concern.

Looking down, Evan realizes that there's a mess of his own blood mixed in with that of the lamb and chicken on his cutting board. "Well shit," he mutters.

"Boss?" his sous chef asks.

Nodding down at his station, Evan lets the chef take over and start cleaning up, scrapping the contaminated meat as David grabs his arm and pulls him to the sink. And even though David is using all his might to push Evan's sleeve out of the way and get his hand under cold running water, Evan's mind isn't on the cut at all, even though he hasn't cut himself in _years_. It's filled with the man that he'd had a delectable weekend with years before, just before he left for Air Force basic training. He can't help himself; he leans in, reveling in the smell of David that still lived in his memories; mint and eucalyptus, with an underlying woody smell that haunted him for years. "I thought you were going to be a botanist," he quietly asks, happy to let David manhandle him.

"And _you_ were supposed to be a pilot," David replies with a grin. 

The duo smile at each other, Evan answering, "Plans changed."

Taking Evan's hand from under the cold stream of water, David says, "I'm glad." He reaches around and grabs a towel from Evan's back pocket, wrapping Evan's injured finger in the warm cloth.

While Evan wants nothing more than to catch up, the reporter is once again on her feet and giving them curious looks, while there's a cacophony of sounds coming from the back room as someone drops a tray of something.

"Gimme one sec," Evan says, and then hesitates for just a beat. But the twinkle in David's eye, along with a covert feel of David's left hand that reveals no ring, helps Evan make up his mind. He leans up, his uninjured hand pulling David to him gently and gives David a kiss, and then lets go just as quickly, a blush covering his face. He takes a few minutes to get his kitchen back in working order, and then - with a gloved hand - he lets David and the reporter finish their work, David taking probably more pictures than is absolutely necessary.

"Okay, well I'm gonna," Elizabeth starts, a cheerful glint in her eye as Evan dances around David as he takes pictures of Evan as he works. Evan watches as she hikes her thumb over her shoulder, indicating the door. "David? I'll...see you back in the office?"

"Yeah," David says, barely acknowledging her. And Evan can't help when she gives him the biggest smile, and the blush that's been on his face for what seems forever deepens further.

When they're at a break, David says, "Well I think I have enough film." But his tone holds such trepidation, that Evan knows David must feel the same as him. He's lost David once, and he's not willing to do it again. With a bashful look, David asks, "Maybe we could-"

"Absolutely," Evan says, grinning right back to him. "I mean I can't for a while," he says with a glance around the busy room, "but..."

Nodding his head, David stutters as he says, "I, uhh... Yeah, I know. You're busy-"

"No, no, no," Evan replies, his gloved hand grasping at David's bicep as his uninjured hand reaches out, fingertips barely touching David's chin. "Have dinner with me. Tonight. Just... _later_. Say 9 o'clock when I get off?" When David smiles his response, Evan adds, "And then maybe breakfast tomorrow morning?"

David leans down and kisses Evan with just enough tongue to make Evan glad he's wearing an apron. And when they finally separate, David says, "I'd love to."


End file.
